But his sturdy face looked troubled as he answered, and Chris saw his father’s lips tighten. Dom Anthony drummed softly on the table.
“There is nothing to be done,” he said. “We wait till we are cast out.”
“You cannot refuse admittance?” questioned Sir James.
“But we shall do so,” said the other tranquilly; “at least we shall not open.”
“But they will batter the door down.”
“Certainly,” said the monk.
“And then?”
He shrugged his shoulders.
“I suppose they will put us out.”
There was absolutely nothing to be done. It was absurd to dream of more than formal resistance. Up in the North in more than one abbey the inmates had armed themselves, and faced the spoilers grimly on the village green; but that was where the whole country side was with them, and here it was otherwise.